Poppy Z. Brite (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} docbrite) wrote,@ 2005-06-06 11:44:00 |
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Stuff and Things
Another crack-of-dawn writing session, and one that brought Chapter 12 to a close. 235 pages in, I must say Soul Kitchen has made some peculiar demands on me. First it wanted to be written in front of TV basketball games; now it wants to be written in the hours before 10 AM. I've never written under either of these conditions before. Well, I suppose I must have done some early-morning extracurricular writing when I was in school, since I was always scribbling in notebooks during class breaks and such, but those hours were forced upon me. Now I can set my own schedule and I seem to be doing this by choice, which I find very strange.
One thing rereading Liquor has convinced me of is that the readers who complained that Mike Mouton was some sort of stereotypical, mustache-twirling, wholly unsympathetic villain are full of shit. He's a pathetic asshole, but I always felt quite a bit of sympathy for him in spite of it all, because it was very clear to me that he couldn't help it. His family treated him like garbage (except for his Uncle George, who was brutally killed in the Red Gravy Murder) and the cocaine has him under its evil thumb and he's a miserable, pitiable bastard, not a "villain" per se at all. That's what I intended, anyway.
Which brings me to a question by a contributor I shall kindly allow to remain nameless:
Sometimes it almost seems like you hate readers who are bigger fans of your old books than your new. Is it my fault if I love gothic erotica and don't have any interest in chefs, restaurants, etc?
No, but it's not my fault either. I know this still comes as a surprise to some people, and I'm sorry that there is no more polite way to say it, but the fact is that I really don't care what does or doesn't interest you; I can only write about what interests me. To phrase it in a slightly hippy-dippy manner, it is my job to chronicle my own journey through life, not yours or anyone else's. If my journey takes me to places you don't care to go, I suggest you read other writers who are more to your taste; as I understand it, there are some fine young authors doing work that might appeal to fans of my older books, including Chesya Burke, Jemiah Jefferson, and Justine Musk. Of course I would be pleased if you also continued reading my books, but not if you're just going to complain about what they aren't.
Though I seldom smoke pot anymore (mostly because I can't be bothered to go to all the trouble of obtaining it) and I am generally not much in favor of states' rights, I deplore this Supreme Court decision. We just keep going backwards, don't we?
Another crack-of-dawn writing session, and one that brought Chapter 12 to a close. 235 pages in, I must say Soul Kitchen has made some peculiar demands on me. First it wanted to be written in front of TV basketball games; now it wants to be written in the hours before 10 AM. I've never written under either of these conditions before. Well, I suppose I must have done some early-morning extracurricular writing when I was in school, since I was always scribbling in notebooks during class breaks and such, but those hours were forced upon me. Now I can set my own schedule and I seem to be doing this by choice, which I find very strange.
One thing rereading Liquor has convinced me of is that the readers who complained that Mike Mouton was some sort of stereotypical, mustache-twirling, wholly unsympathetic villain are full of shit. He's a pathetic asshole, but I always felt quite a bit of sympathy for him in spite of it all, because it was very clear to me that he couldn't help it. His family treated him like garbage (except for his Uncle George, who was brutally killed in the Red Gravy Murder) and the cocaine has him under its evil thumb and he's a miserable, pitiable bastard, not a "villain" per se at all. That's what I intended, anyway.
Which brings me to a question by a contributor I shall kindly allow to remain nameless:
Sometimes it almost seems like you hate readers who are bigger fans of your old books than your new. Is it my fault if I love gothic erotica and don't have any interest in chefs, restaurants, etc?
No, but it's not my fault either. I know this still comes as a surprise to some people, and I'm sorry that there is no more polite way to say it, but the fact is that I really don't care what does or doesn't interest you; I can only write about what interests me. To phrase it in a slightly hippy-dippy manner, it is my job to chronicle my own journey through life, not yours or anyone else's. If my journey takes me to places you don't care to go, I suggest you read other writers who are more to your taste; as I understand it, there are some fine young authors doing work that might appeal to fans of my older books, including Chesya Burke, Jemiah Jefferson, and Justine Musk. Of course I would be pleased if you also continued reading my books, but not if you're just going to complain about what they aren't.
Though I seldom smoke pot anymore (mostly because I can't be bothered to go to all the trouble of obtaining it) and I am generally not much in favor of states' rights, I deplore this Supreme Court decision. We just keep going backwards, don't we?
